


mysteries (murder and otherwise)

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e12 Seeds, F/M, Team Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: During their time at the Academy, Skye has some innocent (and not so innocent) questions.
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Grant Ward
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64





	mysteries (murder and otherwise)

“Serious question,” Skye says on the way to the boiler room, “can you see the future?”

“ _What?_ ” Ward demands. Around him, the rest of them draw up short.

“ _Skye_ ,” Jemma says, more out of habit than anything. Upon closer inspection her query is, frankly, odd, but just as Skye’s made a practice of antagonizing Ward, Jemma’s made one of chastising her for it.

Skye’s shoulders lift in a defensive shrug. “Right. Clairvoyant. Sorry. I just meant because you came along.”

“Came along?” Ward echoes, plainly as confused as the rest of them.

“We were _ordered_ to come here, Skye,” Fitz reminds him.

“We talked about this this morning. You were there. Did you spontaneously get amnesia?” Ward cuts Jemma a glance. “Is that a thing?”

“Well, I suppose that all amnesia is spontaneous in a way-”

“I _mean_ ,” Skye says before Jemma can begin, “we didn’t know when we came that anything-” she waves a hand back towards the lecture hall where a young man nearly died just an hour ago- “ _like that_ was gonna happen. And _we_ weren’t ordered here, _they_ were ordered here.” She swings her finger around in a circle to encompass all of them, then wiggles two of her fingers at Jemma and Fitz alone. 

“By that logic you could see the future,” Fitz points out. “You weren’t ordered to come either.”

“Yeah, but I’m nosy. And Ward already said he didn’t come to prank the school, so why isn’t he on vacation like Coulson and May?”

Jemma and Fitz exchange a concerned look. “Skye-” she begins.

“Are you _accusing Ward_ of something?” Fitz finishes.

“What? _No!_ ” Skye holds up her hands, gesturing frantically to Ward. “Nononono! I just think it’s weird. Like, do you have some specialist sixth sense that draws you to trouble? Do they teach _that_ at Ops?”

“No, Skye, they do not teach black magic at Ops Academy,” Ward says in the most deadpan voice imaginable. Jemma thinks his ability to keep a straight face through it is far more impressive than any supernatural skills might be.

“See? It’s weird, right? Him being here when he’s got no reason to be and everything goes to shit?”

“He’s here because _we’re_ here,” Fitz says while Jemma nods in agreement.

“Are you saying the Academy’s _always_ this dangerous?”

“Of course not!”

“No!”

“The Academy is perfectly secure.”

“We’re safer here than on a grocery run.”

“We certainly don’t need a _specialist_ to protect us.”

“Is that so?” Ward asks. Somehow, without moving at all that Jemma can see, he’s come to be looming over her. It’s quite rude. “Because I saw a kid nearly get frozen alive back there.”

“Something you hardly could have protected us from if we’d been so unlucky,” she says.

“Awwww!” Skye crows suddenly. She’s grinning sappily at Ward. “You’d _miss_ us. _That’s_ why he came.”

“No.”

“Yep.”

“No.”

“You like us.”

“No.”

“Big, scary solo agent loves his team.” Skye is practically dancing around Ward at this point—and drawing attention from passing students.

Fitz sputters into his fist while Jemma bites her cheek.

Ward rolls his eyes. “I’m here because I’m responsible for _you_.” His finger in her chest stops Skye’s triumphant march. “I’m keeping you out of trouble.”

“Okay, _ow_.” Skye rubs the spot he poked. “Are there, like, finger exercises we’re gonna get to one of these days because jeez.”

Jemma leans into Fitz’s space to ask, not nearly quietly enough not to be overheard, “She knows she’s just asked for more training, right?”

“No! No! Nope, I did not-”

“ _Simmons?_ ”

The Academy really _is_ secure. There’s no accounting for the cadets themselves getting into mischief—or attempted murder, it seems—but as SHIELD bases go it’s one of the safest. That said, Fitz’s somewhat fearful tone is all the more frightening after the events of the afternoon.

“What?” she asks, somewhat sharply. She looks down at herself, searching for some sign of ice crawling up her body.

“What did _that_?” He points and Jemma feels herself growing warm even before she follows his gesture to her open collar.

In addition to being terribly safe, the Academy is in a rather warm climate. As it’s spring and the weather’s fine, Jemma opted to open the top two buttons of her blouse. It’s hardly scandalous—or it wouldn’t be, if she didn’t have a rather telling mark on her collarbone.

“Oh.” Her voice is high and her ears are burning. She swiftly attempts to button up once more, but her usual dexterity escapes her. “That.”

Skye leans into Ward, precisely as Jemma did to Fitz a moment ago. “I think the real question is _who_ did that.”

Ward only goes on scowling at the lot of them, for which Jemma is quite grateful. If he’d joined in on Skye’s fun as he did before, she’d never be able to bumble her way through.

“I was pulling a box off one of the top shelves in the lab,” she says, still struggling with her buttons. “I needed some compressed air for my keyboard. But when I pulled the box down there was a loose wrench on top and it fell and hit me. That’s all.” She’s finally managed to get a button done—only to realize she’s crossed the first button with the second hole. Bugger.

Skye bats her hands away and helps her straighten out. Jemma meets her eyes in silent thanks.

“Uh huh,” Skye says, plainly disbelieving. “A loose wrench. That’s what it was. Definitely not one of those Simmons fanboys we saw this morning.”

Jemma is no longer quite so thankful.

Behind Skye, Ward gives a long sigh. “If there are no more strange bruises or accusations of psychic powers to bring up, could we maybe get back to the _attempted murder_?”

“Right, yes, brilliant idea.” Perhaps Jemma’s a bit too enthusiastic, but she doubts she can be blamed for that under the circumstances.

“Yeah,” Fitz agrees slowly, still eyeing Jemma as if he can see the bruise through her blouse.

“Totally,” Skye says. She leans nearer to Jemma. “But we are so talking about this later.” 

Jemma stifles a groan.

.....

“Okay, I got this.” Skye adjusts her shirt, tugging at the collar before leaning forward beneath the edge of the table to push her breasts higher in her bra.

“Jeez, _Skye_ ,” Ward grumbles.

“Hey, don’t pretend you didn’t look down my shirt while you were on truth serum.”

“There is no truth serum,” he says, as he does every time Skye attempts to trick him into admitting there is.

“What exactly have you ‘got’?” Jemma asks when Skye comes back up. She whips her hair over her head as she does, leaving it loose and fluffed.

“The bartender. He’ll know who’s most likely to fit our profile. So I’m gonna get us some drinks and give him a look at the girls-” she pushes her breasts a bit higher- “and get the 411.”

“You are not seriously-”

“And _hopefully_ if I get you a little drunk you’ll tell us which one of these dorks did that to you.” She points at Jemma’s tightly buttoned blouse.

“Good luck,” Ward says, waving her off in a defeated sort of way.

Skye salutes. “I’ll make you proud, teach.”

Jemma gapes after her. “You’re not really going to let her-”

Before she can finish, Ward’s taken hold of her hand and tugged her away from the table, into a nearby corner. Here, they’re hidden by both shadows and industrial piping. Even if someone were to look over at precisely the right angle to see them, all they’d see would be two anonymous people hidden away in a dark alcove, hardly the sort of thing any polite person would take a second glance at.

“Ward,” she begins.

Her blouse has somehow come open again and Ward’s thumb brushes over the bruise on her collarbone while he slips her jacket off her shoulder.

“Tell me, Simmons,” he says lowly, “who _did_ do this to you?”

She shivers from both the pressure of his thumb on the bruise and the low tenor of his voice. “Do I really need to say it?” she asks—and grins when he leans in close, his eyes intent on her face.

“Do I need to make you?”

Before she can point out that this is hardly the place, he’s pressing his lips to her neck, no doubt leaving another mark and this one harder to hide than the first. At the same time, he presses the other hard, leaving her twisting in a heady mix of pleasure and pain.

She whimpers, arching up into him. His lips move up to brush the shell of her ear.

“Come on, baby.”

Oh, _lord_. She’s never been one for pet names and would, with anyone else, feel indignant over this one in particular, but just hearing him say it has her weak in the knees. It wasn’t long into their clandestine relationship before she realized that he only ever uses the name when he’s feeling especially wrathful. She’s sorry for Ward having to suffer the effects of the berserker staff, but she’s certainly benefited. Those nights, she thinks, might actually have ruined her.

But they have a mission and they’re in the _boiler room_ besides. She will never live down the shame if some poor cadet discovers them and she has to face Ann on disciplinary charges.

“You,” she pants, already struggling to hold herself together. She digs her fingers into his hair—and only after realizes Skye might notice it’s mussed—in order to force him to look at her. “ _You_ ,” she says again. “Only you, Grant.”

He grins, obscenely proud of himself, and kisses her one last time on the lips, too quick for her to return, before stepping away to give her some room to right herself.

Dragging her away from the mission, forcing her to profess her attachment to him, only to abandon her before truly delivering on any of his unspoken promises—it’s precisely the sort of boorish behavior she’s come to expect from him when he’s in the midst of one of his berserker episodes and, much as she might love this side of him, she can hardly allow him to get away with it.

So rather than take the opportunity he’s provided her, she grabs him by his tie and pulls him back against her. “And why,” she asks, reminding him of the afternoon’s other unanswered question, “did you come on this mission?”

His smile only grows as his hands wrap around her hips. “For you, Jemma,” he says. “Only you.”


End file.
